


Fireworks And Firestorms

by Cerdic519



Series: Austentatious [12]
Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Attempted Murder, Crobby - Freeform, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, Devonshire, England (Country), F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Omega Castiel, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-23 08:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Yet anotherSense and SensibilityDestiel sequel (sorry again, Jane). It is the year 1824, a year that will see the appearance of Beethoven's famous Ninth Symphony and the first fraternity at a UNited States college (Princeton). In Merrie England, Castiel and Dean have a large family, and have turned Darkside into a home. But the appearance of an alpha supremacist group in the peaceful Culm Valley causes first unrest.... and then death!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts), [itstillnotok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstillnotok/gifts), [Oracle_Thunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oracle_Thunder/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In a Great Britain still settling down after the recent wars, the government is under increasing pressure to effect reform in many areas. And this is set to have repercussions some two hundred miles away from Westminster for an omega landowner and his bow-legged alpha husband, who will face danger closer to home than they might expect....

That the events of this momentous time all happened within a short three-week period over the penultimate month of that year was amazing in itself, and gave those taking part little time to consider or rationalize what was befalling them. Indeed, had it not been for Castiel Ferrers happening to have read a small article in a London newspaper during his trip to the capital the year before, matters may not have ended quite as they did, in the near-destruction of Darkside and the death of a Dashwood.

One of the things that many local people found curious was that Castiel interested himself in the minutiæ of running his estate. Hence it was through his hands that the application to purchase a plot of land in Barton Ferrers had passed (the fact he was due to give birth in a few weeks' time did not slow him down one jot, partly because he had trained his alpha sufficiently for him not to raise the subject). The prospective buyer, a Mr. Richard Roman, wanted to build on it, though he had not stated to what use his building would be put. Normally this would not have drawn the omega's attention, but he remembered that name from somewhere before, and pulled out the book in which he kept interesting news articles. 

Sure enough, there it was. Dick Roman, head of an alpha supremacist group called The Directors, who believed that society should return to the 'good old days' when omegas and women were barefoot, bred and collared (presumably that had been when brave alphas still hunted woolly mammoths, Castiel thought acidly). He had heard that the group, originally founded in Bristol, was trying to expand across the West Country. But what could they want with a rural backwater like the Culm Valley?

Castiel had a nasty suspicion that he knew the answer to that question. Fortunately there was someone close at hand who might be able to help him make sure.

+~+~+

The death some thirteen years ago of Balthazar Willoughby had been followed by the revelation that he had been an agent in the pay of Revolutionary France for some years, something the wiseacres of the valley had immediately proclaimed they had suspected all along. They had apparently not extended their foresight any the further and wondered just why a French agent had been spying in such a remote area, and of course Castiel had told no-one about his suspicions as to Sir Robert Middleton's former career.

Last year a friend and former colleague of Sir Robert, a Mr. Napthali Sawyer, had died, and his youngest son had called in at Barton Park. This Mr. Hezekiah Sawyer, a gruff ginger-haired beta in his early forties had, for some reason, opted to remain in the area, taking a small cottage and keeping himself very much to himself. Castiel had been immediately suspicious; he guessed that the man was another government agent, and as with The Directors, why the interest in so remote an area?

Castiel knew, more than most, that the government was in some trouble. Lord Liverpool's regime, having stamped down hard on those calling for reform in its earlier years, was now seen as being more open to reform, with both Catholic Relief and an end to the hated anti-union laws in sight. But the country was still not at ease with itself, and in such times – well, danger could be just around the corner, as the attempt to murder the entire Cabinet four years back had showed.

The omega needed help. And in his current state, that meant relying on someone else. Preferably without Dean trying to kill them.

+~+~+

Fortunately it was November the fifth, which meant the annual fireworks party and burning of the guy, so Castiel was able to invite Mr. Sawyer to that and the celebratory dinner at the house the next day, which was a Saturday. He was perhaps surprised that the beta accepted the invitation, and after the other guests had gone home he invited the man to step into the library. Mr. Sawyer kept a respectable (and safe) distance from the omega who had a clearly unhappy alpha all but draped around him.

Castiel patted Dean's hair absently, earning a brief break in the constant low growling.

“I wished to ask you about The Directors”, Castiel said bluntly. “I understand that they may be interested in this area, and I would know why.”

His guest did not hesitate, although his reply shocked the omega.

“They are interested in you, Monseigneur”, he said.

“Why?” Dean snapped. Castiel patted him again. 

“The Directors are strongly opposed to electoral reform”, Mr. Sawyer explained. “They know that some omega rights groups are pushing that votes for omegas on the same rules as for other men should be included in that reform, and they know that such a move is popular amongst members of parliament.”

“I would not have thought them so disposed”, Castiel said.

“Several influential members of the government have omega mates”, Mr. Sawyer explained, “and like the current mild changes, the government is disposed to believe that if it yields in that area it may be able to avoid other, even less desirable reforms. In particular, the abolition of small seats such as this one.”

“Sneaky bastards!” Dean growled.

“That is politics”, Castiel sighed. “But I do not see where I fit in to this.”

“Your role as a landowner has made you something of a figurehead for married omegas”, Mr. Sawyer said. “Should you, ahem, encounter any difficulties, it may deter others from pushing the agenda.”

Castiel laid a restraining hand on his husband, who he knew instinctively had been about to leap across the floor at their guest.

“What sort of difficulties?” the alpha demanded. Their guest hesitated.

“Monseigneur Ferrers is, I know, very clever”, he said. “I am sure, for example, that he has more than a good idea about the reasons for my continued presence in the valley. The Directors expressed an 'interest' in him last year, and two weeks ago one of their members was sent to this area, and is currently staying at an inn in Stoke St. Gildard, just across the border. The landowner there, a certain Mr. Alistair Campbell, is also a member.”

“Who is this newcomer?” Dean demanded. Mr. Sawyer looked strangely at them both.

“A Mr. Uriel Dashwood.”

Oh.

+~+~+

Mr. Sawyer stayed for some little time, most of which was spent with him and Castiel persuading Dean not to ride straight up to the Stokes and confront their relative ('confront' as in 'possibly leave him alive if Dean was feeling generous', which at the moment he was not). Fortunately Castiel was able to claim that all this stress was bad for him, which quietened down his alpha at once. Dean even consented to hold his omega in a manly-like manner. All for the baby, of course.

Castiel did wonder, however, just what Uriel hoped to achieve by coming down here. In his mid-thirties now, the unpleasant beta had as yet found no woman or omega of insufficient eyesight or poor enough taste to accept him, and his worried parents might be coming to the very horrifying realization that Norland Park might end up falling to Castiel after all. Lady Lilith would have a conniption!

His last thought before he fell asleep was that tomorrow he would write a letter, and that whilst it was probably wrong of him to always assume the worst about people, humanity had a depressing habit of proving his estimates all too correct.

+~+~+

The following day Castiel had a visitor to Darkside, Mrs. Rowena Crossdale. She had been happily married to her husband Baldur for nearly a decade now, but Castiel knew that she was definitely the person to turn to for the sort of information he wanted. She did not reprove him for his suggestions as to what he believed to be happening, and promised to use her contacts to confirm or deny this as soon as she could.

+~+~+

The next three weeks were very difficult for everyone at Darkside. Castiel's baby seemed determined to try to kick his way out into the world early, and the omega got precious little sleep. Pamela Barnes assured him that everything was still fine, but naturally he fretted. Meanwhile Dean was clearly torn between rushing into Somersetshire to knock seven bells out of Uriel, and staying with his exhausted mate. Pamela, bless her, had told Dean that in Castiel's current condition any prolonged absence by his alpha would be unhelpful, so for now Dean was staying put. Mr. Hezekiah Sawyer was keeping an eye on the area's unwelcome visitor.

It was damnably annoying, therefore, when a letter came for Dean saying that some legal papers needed signing down in Exeter, and worse, that they had to be done in the next two days. Dean did not want to leave his omega, but failure to complete the transactions would be costly for the estate, so very reluctantly, he had to go.

In the light of subsequent events, it was extremely fortunate that he decided to get his business out of the way beforehand, and only then drop by to see his mother. The ride to the cathedral city was pleasant enough, and soon he was pulling up outside the offices of Charlton-West Solicitors. The hatchet-faced secretary duly went to fetch the owner of the company.

Mr. Adonijah Charlton-West stared at Dean in surprise.

“I did not send you any letter”, he said. “Even if any such papers did need signing, I know full well that your mate is due any day now. Had I needed to, I would have ridden up to Dark Barton myself.”

“But I have the letter”, Dean objected, pulling it out and handing it to the solicitor. He looked at it only briefly before dolefully shaking his head.

“Even without looking at the signature, I know that this is a fake”, he said. “All my letters are written out by Mrs. Cartwright here, as her writing is so much better than my terrible scrawl. I am afraid that your journey has been for noth....”

He was talking to an empty room, whose tranquillity was disturbed only by the ruffling of some papers caused by a door being slammed behind the fleeing alpha.

Oh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Castiel Ferrers faces a sudden and unexpected danger to not only his own life but that of his unborn infant. With his husband having been lured away, that danger strikes – and it will result in death, destruction and dark dealings.

It was a dark and stormy night.

Actually it was. The relatively mild autumn weather which had accompanied Dean's departure earlier that day had given way to dark grey, almost black clouds, and a strong wind. Castiel had ordered the servants to shutter the windows, and he himself had withdrawn to the small but warm library, where he could read in peace.

Mrs. Crossdale had called the week before, and the news she had brought had been depressing if expected. They had talked briefly, then Castiel had arranged for a reporter on one of the Exeter newspapers to call at the house. To the young beta (at whom Dean had growled warningly throughout the whole interview), the omega had fairly torn into the government, saying that their half-hearted and belated reform efforts did not go anything like as far enough. Given his standing in the community, those words would soon be resonating across Devonshire. And hopefully a little way into Somersetshire.

It was getting late, and Castiel was beginning to become anxious. His plot to get rid of Dean (who would never have countenanced his actions tonight) had worked, but by now surely the alpha would have reached Exeter and have discovered that he had been duped. He would ride back a lot faster than he had ridden forth, so Castiel had very little time left before.....

The slightest noise. Thank the Lord for ultra-sensitive omega hearing.

“Hullo.”

Castiel smiled pleasantly at his relative, who had just stepped through the forced French windows.

“Uriel”, he said. “This is a surprise.”

His half-brother's son scowled at him. The years had not been kind to Uriel Dashwood, although judging from his portly figure, he had done at least some of the damage himself.

“You do not seem surprised to see me, omega”, Uriel glowered. He glanced across at the one door into the room, from which Castiel had already removed the key.

“I was expecting you”, Castiel said calmly. “How are your father and mother, pray?”

The glower became a scowl.

“I did not come here to discuss family, omega”, Uriel snapped. “You have been making waves.”

You make me sound like a warship”, Castiel smiled. He kept his book open, and watched his relative across the semi-darkened room. It was still a couple of hours to sunset, but the heavy clouds outside made it almost dark. Only the fire, carefully stoked, gave some light to the room,

“My fellow alphas have decided to put a stop to your prattling”, Uriel said loftily. “That interview you did last week reached the London papers, did you know?”

“I did not”, Castiel said. “Still, it is a free country.”

“It is a country that should be ruled by alphas and betas!” Uriel snapped. “And forever it shall be.”

There was a light of mania in his dark eyes. And that was when Castiel first smelt the smoke.

“What have you done?” he demanded.

“Set fire to this miserable ruin of a house”, his relative grinned. “And I can guarantee you one thing, Castiel. Only one of us is going to leave this room alive.”

“I quite agree.”

The look of puzzlement on the beta's face was a wonder to behold – particularly when Castiel dropped his book to reveal the revolver he had been holding behind it. Uriel turned deathly pale.

“Castiel, let us be reasonable....”

The door flew open and Dean burst into the room, looking horrified. He spared Uriel a puzzled look before turning to his mate.

“Cas, the place is on fire!” he shouted. “We have to get out now!”

The distraction was brief, but it was almost enough. Castiel looked back to his visitor just in time to see him drawing out a pistol, and did not hesitate. Three shots at minimal range, and the beta slumped to the floor. Castiel winced at the recoil – he had not been holding the gun quite correctly – but rose awkwardly to his feet.

“Dean?” he called out.

Two things happened in quick succession. First, Pamela Barnes appeared at the doorway and hurried over to the staggering omega. Second, Castiel felt a sudden pressure from within.

Oh come on. _Now?_

+~+~+

It was two days later. In what remained of their home – thankfully the West Wing had been mostly unaffected, though the remaining two-thirds of the house would have to be demolished and/or totally rebuilt – Dean and Castiel were sitting in the largest available room on two heavy chairs. Castiel was nursing the latest addition to the Ferrers household, the aptly-named Phoenix, a bossy omega who was not demanding something or other for the first time in days. Above the two chairs someone had set up a post with a medieval-looking banner draped from it, stating ' _coniunx et heredem'_.

 _Coniunx et heredem_. Literally meaning 'wife (or one conjoined) and heirs'. The one exception to the rights established in Magna Carta of trial by jury, namely when someone was proven to have threatened the life of the mate or the immediate heirs of an alpha. Dean held his omega's hand and waited.

The door opened and Baldur Crossdale entered, along with three of his fellow ex-soldiers from the farm. In their grasp was a tall but cadaverous-looking alpha, who was clearly their prisoner. They threw him to the floor in front of Dean and Castiel, and only then did he look up to see the banner behind them. 

Dean could smell his fear, and smiled to himself. He nodded to his mate.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mandleson”, Castiel said gravely. “So nice of you to join us.”

The alpha opened his mouth to state that he had hardly had any choice, but a growl from Dean silenced him.

“Maybe later, Dean”, Castiel said calmingly. “I am sure that our guest knows why he is here today, although I am perfectly prepared to help 'jog' his memory if required.”

The floored alpha let out a small squeak, but said nothing.

“I must say that I have been intrigued by this alpha supremacist group calling itself The Directors”, Castiel began. “There are uncertain times, and their actions have served only to undermine the cause of reform. But then, that was what you and the government planned all along, was it not Mr. Mandleson?”

“No!” the alpha protested.

“Kindly do not add to your troubles by lying”, Castiel said coldly. “I know all. Lord Liverpool's government – which, I suspect, knows only tangentially of your actions even if they approve of them – is being pressured into reforms that it does not wish to undertake. What better way to avoid them than by discrediting those calling for reform, as we know the government did at Spa Fields not so long ago. So when some outspoken omega starts speaking out about the need for said reform, it seemed the perfect opportunity for you. The alpha supremacist group strikes, there is a death, and the reformers get the blame for 'inciting trouble'.”

“I did not!” the man moaned.

“Then I am sure you will be able to explain why you were staying in Stoke St. Medard, under half a mile's walk from the inn where my late and un-lamented relative was staying”, Castiel said coolly. “Or why the two of you were seen conversing on several occasions.”

The alpha whimpered and curled into himself.

“Let me at him!” Dean growled.

“I really do not want blood in what remains of our house”, Castiel said. “No, Mr. Mandleson will be allowed to leave.”

The alpha looked up hopefully. Dean snarled his disapproval.

“However”, Castiel said, “there will be a price for your freedom, sir. On that table is a document which states that you and the government were implicit in an attempt to murder one of your opponents. You will also note that there are five copies for you to sign, each of which will be lodged with a lawyer in a different part of the country. Should there be any subsequent government action against myself, my family, or any of the reformers, then the London newspapers will all receive copies. I believe that I am correct in suggesting that the administration would not survive to see another sunrise. And your own life would doubtless become somewhat interesting – if somewhat shorter - as you would surely and rightly get the blame.”

The alpha scurried across the floor, and quickly signed all the documents. Baldur checked them carefully before nodding to Castiel.

“I said that you would be allowed to go, Mr. Mandleson”, he said, “and I am a man of my word. You shall have one hour.”

“One hour for what?” the alpha asked, looking confused. Castiel looked pointedly at his watch.

“One hour before I loose my alpha to come after you”, he said. “Now fifty-nine and a half min.....”

The alpha had fled. Dean growled, but held his place. Castiel thanked Baldur and his friends, and then they were alone except for Phoenix.

“Bobby has invited us all to move in with him at Barton Park”, Dean said, ruffling his mate's ever untidy hair. “I would feel safer there; this part of the house may look all right, but it will be hell when the builders move in.”

“Then thank the Lord for house insurance”, Castiel smiled. “Yes, I think that would be for the best.”

He yawned, and Dean smiled as he took their youngest son from him. He had his mate, he had his family, he had......

A wet baby! Ugh!

ΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩ

And that's all – for now. But the (mis-)adventures of nineteenth century Cas and Dean continue in the next part of _The Dashwood Inheritance: Reforms And Riots_ , set some six years into a future where the country teeters on the edge of revolution...... 


End file.
